Page 3 of Always

Mr. Burton made a note of all this for the listing agent. Anika wished the woman well on her quest to find a childless recluse in need of a forty-acre estate that they would rent with funds obtained without any status or renown.

With all this decided, Stella prepared to leave again. Far from disappointed that they would have to give up their childhood home, she seemed excited at the prospect of spending more time in the city. Anika wished she shared her sister’s enthusiasm. The last time she lived in New York, she had been horribly unhappy.

“There is one more thing,” Mr. Burton said.

“What now?” Bennet groaned.

“You’re all aware that Dominic Moretti has been ill.”

“It’s all the pasta,” Bennet said. “He says the Italians have been eating pasta for thousands of years. I told him he ought to switch to Paleo if he cares so much about the antiquity of his diet.”

“It’s liver damage,” Mr. Burton said bluntly. “His doctor has advised him to cut back his work hours. Drastically.”

“Dominic didn’t say anything about that to me,” Bennet frowned.

“He asked me to draw up some documents,” Mr. Burton said, “to allow his son to take over his position in the business.”

“Marco!” Bennet cried. “He’s just a kid!”

“He’s a year older than Stella,” Mr. Burton corrected.

Bennet made a dismissive noise. Since he still considered himself in the prime of youth, it was impossible that his children could be full-grown adults.

“Doesn’t Marco live in Italy?” Stella asked. Despite her innocent tone, Anika knew that Stella was fully aware where Marco lived, and probably what he had for breakfast this morning. As she considered herself a premier socialite, Stella kept careful watch on anybody with a trust fund and an Instagram following as large as Marco’s.

“Marco will be moving to New York,” Mr. Burton said, “very soon.”

With this information, Stella departed the house in high spirits. For her, the evening’s news had been almost entirely positive. The financial issues seemed overblown, and as long as she had a clutch full of credit cards, her father could sort out the rest. He could always make more money.

Moving to the city full time was just the change she needed. She was tired of the stuffy, old-money, geriatric Hamptons. The city was where life and adventure were to be found—right outside her window instead of a helicopter ride away. And it appeared that Italy’s most eligible bachelor would be moving there at just the same time.

Anika’s emotions were quite the opposite. She would be torn away from her home, where the last physical reminders of her mother lingered. Worse, she had no confidence in Mr. Burton’s idea that her father and sister would manage to spend less money amidst the constant temptation of the most expensive city in the world.

Sensing her despondency, Aunt Molly put her arm around Anika’s shoulders.

“A change will be good for you too,” she promised her niece. “You’ve been isolated here.”

“Promise you’ll visit us,” Anika said.

“Of course!” Aunt Molly said. “You know I go to the city all the time.”

“It won’t be the same as being neighbors,” Anika said.

“No,” Aunt Molly admitted, “but who knows, maybe this will be good for me too. You’re not the only one who’s been single too long—if your father forgets his prejudices, we might convince Bradley Cooper to move next door.”

* * *

2

Anika felt she had never properly appreciated the beauty of her home until she had to leave it. She had lived away before—a semester spent in Spain during high school, and she took a dorm room when she went to NYU. But she had always come home for holidays. Just the knowledge that these rooms remained, solid and secure and relatively unchanging, had been an anchor to her in the ten years since her mother had died.

Eleanor Knight’s touch had shaped it all. For a designer, Bennet Knight had limited interest in home interiors, only lending his expertise when coaxed by his eldest daughter. And Stella preferred to decorate and redecorate the vacation homes that saw the larger bulk of visitors—her father didn’t allow her to bring anyone to the estate.

For all his talk of “good families,” Bennet Knight was not entirely comfortable amongst his financial peers. It was his wife whose family name could be found on multiple eminent buildings in New York. Bennet’s parents sold insurance in Poughkeepsie.

He liked to attend parties. He threw them himself after every one of his shows. But this was all done at a distance, in rented spaces. He didn’t allow anybody to come to his home, the place he retreated when he fell into one of his depressions, hiding in his private wing until the mood finally subsided. He did this more often since Eleanor had died. He used to stay at the estate infrequently when she was there.

Eleanor’s quiet elegance lingered in every room of the house. Disappointed in her choice of husband, she had poured her love into the estate and her daughters.

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